Years later, the great priest lay in coma,
light of St. Vincent’s private room dimming
as it must, result of weak heart's trauma.
Sitting at his bedside—remembering
how the monsignor liked John Knowles—Mike read
from A Separate Peace, hoping spoken
rhythms flowed, easing journey to sacred
space where body cannot go. Leg broken,
denying war, Finny recovered while
Gene wallowed in guilt. Pausing for respite,
Mike watched our mentor sleep, then whispered, “I’ll
stop. Guess you’re tired as I of hearing it.”
The old man barely shook his head “no” twice.
A teacher’s bit of last loving advice.
Roger Armbrust
October 1, 2007
